I state no ownership over any of the characters portrayed in this fic. Vicious is my creation, and my personality in general, as all my characters are based on real friends of mine. I'd also like to say... "LOVE AND PEACE! corny peace sign" ...and with that, I give you Chapter Nine.
Hellish
As flames curled upwards, pillars of fire escalated into what seemed the eternity above him. A man with long, greasy black hair, tired brown eyes, and blistered hands finally sat down after two straight weeks of hard labor. A landscape of hot coal beneath him, his flesh had been seared again and again as it slowly healed only to be renewed and burned away once more. Without sunlight or moon, he had lost track of the days and sleepless nights.
A smirk crept across his face, even as he was whipped back to his feet and forced to resume carrying water towards an ever-evaporating bin, supposedly trying to refill it. Again, he found it empty and dumped the little bit he had left from his trip into the barren iron pot. Nearly laughing at the obscure memories that seemed gone already, along with his mind. The whips that lashed at him, making new scars against the bare flesh, seemed to have no effect on this strange one. Others screaming, dropping on their hands and knees around him, even after a century of the same treatment.
This was Hell, but not the hell that he had once feared the most. Working for two solid weeks left his body near death, but his mind was gone from the torture he had endured right from the beginning. The demons around him had a personal grudge against him, but for what he could only guess. The tattered pants he wore were his only garment, and they never once protected him from harm nor pain. He was alone, to the elements that perversed his mind endlessly.
A rather petite female lashed a bullwhip around his throat and pulled him close to her easily. Taking his bucket, bare of any fluid, and broke it against the stone beneath, "Look what you have done! Clean that up and find a new bucket!" before pulling the bullwhip from him and leaving a deep gash around his neck.
Silently, and with a blank stare in no direction, he did as he was told. She watched with content as he gathered the shards of strange metal and walked away to dispose of it in one of the many pits of magma.
This man frustrated them as well as entertained them. Sometimes, he would not respond at all, but the demons had seen him crying sometimes, while even he did not notice his tears dripping and sizzling out of sight before impact with the red earth.
He had no remorse for whatever he felt he had done, felt no wrong in all that had happened. Although he didn't know exactly what had happened, he still didn't care for other's unwanted opinions. All this torn man knew was that he was told to get a new bucket, and that is what he intended to do.
As some torn skin fell from his throat, he would simply leave it to cook against the ground, just as the flats of his feet would. Blood dripping down his shoulders, back, and chest, he looked like a smoky ghost. He dropped the armful of shards into the magma, instantly making them one, melding them. Turning away, he met face with the woman demon, holding a bucket brimming with cool water. Even with human senses, he could smell the purity of the water, the crisp cold even in this place.
Distracted as he was, he didn't care when her slender form moved against his, slipping one arm over his shoulders and around the torn neck, touching but causing no noticeable pain. Calmly, she let him sip from the edge of the pail and never let it tip enough for him to get a good drink. Pulling the bucket away, she forced a kiss on his cracked lips and felt a whimper for the water that left him, to be replaced by a fiery kiss, singing his just moistened lips. She paid no mind, and licked his lips as they parted, winking to him and turning the bucket upside down over his head.
His body felt cool for an instant, before his skin seemed afire as every drop boiled away in the intense heat around them, right against his skin. She held his hand and pulled him away from a pair of approaching demons, like small gorillas with massive claws adorning their fingertips, and red hair all over.
Not caring any longer as she pulled him into a dark corner and pressed her mouth once more against his skin, burning it again as she pulled him deeper until there was no light to see by. His eyes finally closed and he fell into the darkness of sleep, as she grinned, still kissing, an icy hint in her eyes with mischief in their wake.
When he awoke, the only sign he was concious was that his pulse quickened slightly and his eyes slowly drifted open. The former guided the woman back into his presence.
All around him, there were spires of ice from every few feet of ceiling space and floorspace, varying dramatically in size between each one. Where he lay, though, was a soft, sky-blue colored bed. Just as the demon woman stepped into his possible view he sat up and looked at her. Eyes as dead as any victim she'd held in her time, but more delving and piercing than any lover who had held her.
As she moved gracefully slower, her skin began to resemble the ice around it. Her flesh shimmering slightly as it refracted every bit of light and left her looking like frosty glass. Pale flesh made a bluish hue as she knelt beside him. His cold hazel eyes meeting with hers, he said and did exactly what he was thinking: Nothing.
Pushing him slowly onto his back as she laid kisses unto his lips and chin softly over and over until he was pressed agaisnt the warm matress beneath. Straddling his hips, one cold hand against his bare chest, she spoke in a calm and wistful manner, "My dear... You are quite a strange one. I know you desire the company of women, and yet you make no move to edge me further." Her other hand's fingers dug into his gut a little, angrily so, "Is it that you do not find me attractive..." tilting her head as she licked a frozen touch slowly benetah his chin, "No, I can feel your lust for me... you're simply mindless, aren't you?"
A chilling laugh, more chilling even than the frozen water in all directions. Her wit amused her as much as it displeased her. Fingertips turning to claws and drawing blood from him. Just as it dripped down his belly, she stood over him, licking the hot blood from each finger. He stared up at her with no wonder or concern, but a dead gaze. She growled and walked away, just as the wind seemed to bite at his skin and lift him to his feet.
He began work for the unseeable demons that pushed him around in his icy prison, forcing him to harvest the dungeon of it's ice at their beckon, but always there were two where he had used much energy to remove one. The entire lair quickly overpopulated by the frozen forms.
Eventually, he grew weary and fell back, leaning against an icy spire and working no more. Even as whips of biting wind lashed him enough to bleed, he would move no more.
Thinking him dead, one trollish form appeared from the breeze and wrapped clawed fingers around his ankles and begun to drag him. One flick of a delicate wrist and the beast shattered, the woman looking down to the man with such an ugly, scarred body, before leaving him again, a sheet of frost in the form of a scarf hanging from her shoulder.
Sleeping soundlessly as the breezes faded to silence and left him to shiver as he drifted into dreams of such mindless chaos as they made not enough sense to disturb any man at all. Every wound closed in the rest he took, air around him nurturing him and readying him to recieve more pain without breaking. Each scar that much worse for the speed at which it was forced to heal. Dried blood cracked against him, reopening wounds but the blood freezing just as it left his body. Icy tears stopped just as they reached his cheeks, he cried without a sob as he slept alone in the biting but steady air.
Sure enough, he awoke to a lash of pain on his chest. Without a protest, he stood to his full height of six feet and used both fists to rub the ice shards from his lashes. A quiet mumble from his lips with no sense to it whatsoever, he set out to the whisper's of the winds and took a pickaxe from the air.
With a single swing, he broke one shard down the middle. A simple crack and nothing more. A second one left no damage whatsoever. Feet blue with cold, just as his hands were, he labored on to fulfill the wishes of the only voice he could understand anymore, the commanding one.
Every hour ticked on with more and more tedious and pointless tasks. None with end, but every time a demon got bored with him, a lash told him to move on to the next chore. The more he worked, the less he cared. Not caring that he could not die, but suffering through so many deaths without an end to any life at all. The pain was overwhelming his body, causing tremors deep in his bones, but he ached onwards, he toiled his body and soul to the very core for meaningless work.
After a week, the man was paler than any ghost, weaker than any child, and without much lungs to breathe with. He was frozen deep inside so his heart sometimes forgot to beat. The demons had joined others in tormenting more interesting spirits. No more tears fell from this man. And just as he lay to let himself sleep, the ice woman came again, from amidst the shards around him.
A whisper of a seductive voice made one eyelid twitch, but no more reaction than familiarity. His muscles were no longer good enough to be called mortal. Her voice could freeze hearts, but his already was frozen. Yet she spoke as if to warm him, "My lovely diamond, you have grown to be no more than a corpse.." crouching beside him in a long luminescent blue dress, knees bent to the side as her slender hands rested on them, "What shall I do with you.."
With a flinch of pain, he sat up, bruises and scrapes all looking like a fetid rot on his body. With a haggard voice, he spoke, "Food.. Water..." looking at her with weary, half-mast eyes without an ounce of hope or weakness, nor any strength within. He simply told her what his body craved like most would go mad over. He was too far gone in his mind to truly bother with his hungers.
Her laugh. The chilling laugh. Still haunting some men's nightmares. It rang against the crackling ice as she looked upwards, "Ah, my love. You are so simple! I do think I may have something for you. Of course, when you are better, I will take my debt back thrice."
A slight nod told her no more than that he had heard her. No answer in the blank eyes, no shine of hatred, or kindness, nor even life. She took this as a yes and grasped his hand. Weighing hardly more than a feather, she dragged him up to his feet. As he somehow stood on his own, she seemed to glide away, his feet following steadily in her wake.
Like OMG! It's an ice woman! She took him from the fires into the ice. Did I say OMG? Someone... shoot me. Wait til this story's done, take me out back, and shoot me. But anyway, tell me what you think. I really liked this one, did it while I had no net. Must upload this one with chapter 8.
Hellish
As flames curled upwards, pillars of fire escalated into what seemed the eternity above him. A man with long, greasy black hair, tired brown eyes, and blistered hands finally sat down after two straight weeks of hard labor. A landscape of hot coal beneath him, his flesh had been seared again and again as it slowly healed only to be renewed and burned away once more. Without sunlight or moon, he had lost track of the days and sleepless nights.
A smirk crept across his face, even as he was whipped back to his feet and forced to resume carrying water towards an ever-evaporating bin, supposedly trying to refill it. Again, he found it empty and dumped the little bit he had left from his trip into the barren iron pot. Nearly laughing at the obscure memories that seemed gone already, along with his mind. The whips that lashed at him, making new scars against the bare flesh, seemed to have no effect on this strange one. Others screaming, dropping on their hands and knees around him, even after a century of the same treatment.
This was Hell, but not the hell that he had once feared the most. Working for two solid weeks left his body near death, but his mind was gone from the torture he had endured right from the beginning. The demons around him had a personal grudge against him, but for what he could only guess. The tattered pants he wore were his only garment, and they never once protected him from harm nor pain. He was alone, to the elements that perversed his mind endlessly.
A rather petite female lashed a bullwhip around his throat and pulled him close to her easily. Taking his bucket, bare of any fluid, and broke it against the stone beneath, "Look what you have done! Clean that up and find a new bucket!" before pulling the bullwhip from him and leaving a deep gash around his neck.
Silently, and with a blank stare in no direction, he did as he was told. She watched with content as he gathered the shards of strange metal and walked away to dispose of it in one of the many pits of magma.
This man frustrated them as well as entertained them. Sometimes, he would not respond at all, but the demons had seen him crying sometimes, while even he did not notice his tears dripping and sizzling out of sight before impact with the red earth.
He had no remorse for whatever he felt he had done, felt no wrong in all that had happened. Although he didn't know exactly what had happened, he still didn't care for other's unwanted opinions. All this torn man knew was that he was told to get a new bucket, and that is what he intended to do.
As some torn skin fell from his throat, he would simply leave it to cook against the ground, just as the flats of his feet would. Blood dripping down his shoulders, back, and chest, he looked like a smoky ghost. He dropped the armful of shards into the magma, instantly making them one, melding them. Turning away, he met face with the woman demon, holding a bucket brimming with cool water. Even with human senses, he could smell the purity of the water, the crisp cold even in this place.
Distracted as he was, he didn't care when her slender form moved against his, slipping one arm over his shoulders and around the torn neck, touching but causing no noticeable pain. Calmly, she let him sip from the edge of the pail and never let it tip enough for him to get a good drink. Pulling the bucket away, she forced a kiss on his cracked lips and felt a whimper for the water that left him, to be replaced by a fiery kiss, singing his just moistened lips. She paid no mind, and licked his lips as they parted, winking to him and turning the bucket upside down over his head.
His body felt cool for an instant, before his skin seemed afire as every drop boiled away in the intense heat around them, right against his skin. She held his hand and pulled him away from a pair of approaching demons, like small gorillas with massive claws adorning their fingertips, and red hair all over.
Not caring any longer as she pulled him into a dark corner and pressed her mouth once more against his skin, burning it again as she pulled him deeper until there was no light to see by. His eyes finally closed and he fell into the darkness of sleep, as she grinned, still kissing, an icy hint in her eyes with mischief in their wake.
When he awoke, the only sign he was concious was that his pulse quickened slightly and his eyes slowly drifted open. The former guided the woman back into his presence.
All around him, there were spires of ice from every few feet of ceiling space and floorspace, varying dramatically in size between each one. Where he lay, though, was a soft, sky-blue colored bed. Just as the demon woman stepped into his possible view he sat up and looked at her. Eyes as dead as any victim she'd held in her time, but more delving and piercing than any lover who had held her.
As she moved gracefully slower, her skin began to resemble the ice around it. Her flesh shimmering slightly as it refracted every bit of light and left her looking like frosty glass. Pale flesh made a bluish hue as she knelt beside him. His cold hazel eyes meeting with hers, he said and did exactly what he was thinking: Nothing.
Pushing him slowly onto his back as she laid kisses unto his lips and chin softly over and over until he was pressed agaisnt the warm matress beneath. Straddling his hips, one cold hand against his bare chest, she spoke in a calm and wistful manner, "My dear... You are quite a strange one. I know you desire the company of women, and yet you make no move to edge me further." Her other hand's fingers dug into his gut a little, angrily so, "Is it that you do not find me attractive..." tilting her head as she licked a frozen touch slowly benetah his chin, "No, I can feel your lust for me... you're simply mindless, aren't you?"
A chilling laugh, more chilling even than the frozen water in all directions. Her wit amused her as much as it displeased her. Fingertips turning to claws and drawing blood from him. Just as it dripped down his belly, she stood over him, licking the hot blood from each finger. He stared up at her with no wonder or concern, but a dead gaze. She growled and walked away, just as the wind seemed to bite at his skin and lift him to his feet.
He began work for the unseeable demons that pushed him around in his icy prison, forcing him to harvest the dungeon of it's ice at their beckon, but always there were two where he had used much energy to remove one. The entire lair quickly overpopulated by the frozen forms.
Eventually, he grew weary and fell back, leaning against an icy spire and working no more. Even as whips of biting wind lashed him enough to bleed, he would move no more.
Thinking him dead, one trollish form appeared from the breeze and wrapped clawed fingers around his ankles and begun to drag him. One flick of a delicate wrist and the beast shattered, the woman looking down to the man with such an ugly, scarred body, before leaving him again, a sheet of frost in the form of a scarf hanging from her shoulder.
Sleeping soundlessly as the breezes faded to silence and left him to shiver as he drifted into dreams of such mindless chaos as they made not enough sense to disturb any man at all. Every wound closed in the rest he took, air around him nurturing him and readying him to recieve more pain without breaking. Each scar that much worse for the speed at which it was forced to heal. Dried blood cracked against him, reopening wounds but the blood freezing just as it left his body. Icy tears stopped just as they reached his cheeks, he cried without a sob as he slept alone in the biting but steady air.
Sure enough, he awoke to a lash of pain on his chest. Without a protest, he stood to his full height of six feet and used both fists to rub the ice shards from his lashes. A quiet mumble from his lips with no sense to it whatsoever, he set out to the whisper's of the winds and took a pickaxe from the air.
With a single swing, he broke one shard down the middle. A simple crack and nothing more. A second one left no damage whatsoever. Feet blue with cold, just as his hands were, he labored on to fulfill the wishes of the only voice he could understand anymore, the commanding one.
Every hour ticked on with more and more tedious and pointless tasks. None with end, but every time a demon got bored with him, a lash told him to move on to the next chore. The more he worked, the less he cared. Not caring that he could not die, but suffering through so many deaths without an end to any life at all. The pain was overwhelming his body, causing tremors deep in his bones, but he ached onwards, he toiled his body and soul to the very core for meaningless work.
After a week, the man was paler than any ghost, weaker than any child, and without much lungs to breathe with. He was frozen deep inside so his heart sometimes forgot to beat. The demons had joined others in tormenting more interesting spirits. No more tears fell from this man. And just as he lay to let himself sleep, the ice woman came again, from amidst the shards around him.
A whisper of a seductive voice made one eyelid twitch, but no more reaction than familiarity. His muscles were no longer good enough to be called mortal. Her voice could freeze hearts, but his already was frozen. Yet she spoke as if to warm him, "My lovely diamond, you have grown to be no more than a corpse.." crouching beside him in a long luminescent blue dress, knees bent to the side as her slender hands rested on them, "What shall I do with you.."
With a flinch of pain, he sat up, bruises and scrapes all looking like a fetid rot on his body. With a haggard voice, he spoke, "Food.. Water..." looking at her with weary, half-mast eyes without an ounce of hope or weakness, nor any strength within. He simply told her what his body craved like most would go mad over. He was too far gone in his mind to truly bother with his hungers.
Her laugh. The chilling laugh. Still haunting some men's nightmares. It rang against the crackling ice as she looked upwards, "Ah, my love. You are so simple! I do think I may have something for you. Of course, when you are better, I will take my debt back thrice."
A slight nod told her no more than that he had heard her. No answer in the blank eyes, no shine of hatred, or kindness, nor even life. She took this as a yes and grasped his hand. Weighing hardly more than a feather, she dragged him up to his feet. As he somehow stood on his own, she seemed to glide away, his feet following steadily in her wake.
Like OMG! It's an ice woman! She took him from the fires into the ice. Did I say OMG? Someone... shoot me. Wait til this story's done, take me out back, and shoot me. But anyway, tell me what you think. I really liked this one, did it while I had no net. Must upload this one with chapter 8.